oil woods
Marin Oil

        Higher Planes of Light

My frantic mind entered an acre
Of sheep munching peace, and then
It stepped back, then back again
As their gazes turned upon me.
I was back with my wants, my wants
As needs that fill the space between
Thoughts, so I kept thinking,
But it petered out eventually.
To be in the day’s tiny bell ringing.
To be of that ringing is what I wanted.
The light-shattered pine trees stood
Oblivious to the K-Pop streaming
From a convertible made of mania.
The sun’s neutrinos passed through
The pines, the car, myself and we were
Equal in not feeling their passing,
But the sound, the sound.
I wanted to listen to some alpine birds,
Not air treated with antidepressants,
But the battle of decency is waged
On higher planes of light.

About the author: Masin Persina’s poems have appeared, or are forthcoming, in Barrelhouse; Forklift, Ohio; Handsome; Ninth Letter; 6×6 and elsewhere. He lives in Oakland, CA

Artwork: Michael J. Caligaris